


Arcane Thunder Rolls

by AlphaPockets



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other, personal campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 21:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12734904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaPockets/pseuds/AlphaPockets
Summary: A revolving cast of idiots for hire continuously fail find the end to what they can accomplish when they put their minds to it.





	1. Thick as Thieves

They were staring at each other, party split half and half over the situation. On one side were two friends, if you could call them that, standing about the same in height and build. Their coppery skin and softer features hidden behind the shadows of their hoods and the mess of their hair. The other side, a towering figure of golden scales and his pale, angled-featured and keen eyes. The issue? One of the wood elves had cheated the dragonborn in what was supposed to be an honest game of dice and got caught by the high elf. Now, the dragonborn, with his high honour insulted, was causing a scene that the two smaller elves did not wish to have happen. While liked for some reason in this small village, they were not known for their respectable way of living and would rather stay under the radar. The high elf, who had some money on the next round, was not on his kin’s side. His robes were of a softer material and flowing, but more restrictive than the other two. The dragonborn adorned leather armor and a long cloak that was custom-made for his towering form. Their opponents were dressed similar in black, form fitting attire designed for easy movement.

 

The taller of the two thieves had his hand resting on his dagger under his cloak as he tried to talk down the situation. He had gentle features that almost looked more feminine than his counterpart. His long, light brown hair was pulled back by a two plaits and tied behind his head. While young for an elf, he was older than the thief beside him, even if only by decades. His hazel eyes were trained on the other elf across from him, as the large and cumbersome dragonborn was not is problem. He had seen the flickers in the other one’s eyes and knew there was more to the small elf than met the eye.

 

Ahtil was the one to notice the man approaching cautiously. He seemed desperate enough to cut off the moment and her faltering “… uh?” was enough to make the other three look at him as well. In that moment, the thief pocketed the coinage she had cheated for and returned to the table as they assessed the situation.

 

The man before them was a merchant that An Talas had seen once before in Neverwinter. He was from the merchant district. He was not wealthy by any means, but his guild had been. He was average height, but older and heavier in side. He had a thick, full beard and wiry hair. His robes were deep green with black trim and a simple belt holding his satchel and a small dagger. On his back was a bag with what was most likely his scrolls and papers for business transactions. He had a softer tone, it was far politer than the dragonborn’s natural booming tone and less threatening than the two rogues. He was clearly not a man who was big on interrupting a bar fight in the making, but he needed to talk to them. And the whole party seemed to know that it was not for their interest but his own.

 

“Excuse me, but the bar keep said you lot are all from Neverwinter,” he asked. He was not strong in his apparent declaration. The party all looked at each other. Clearly confused about why they were even being addressed. They all nodded but not in tandem, but clearly all together. He looked around and nodded as well. “Would you all be going back to town sometime soon? As in the morning?”

 

The group looked at each other. Two had hands on their weapons, one had arcane energy sparking in his claws, and the last with her hands in the pocket of her robes. They did not look like a group of friends, but they were a ragtag group that happened to be at the same table from the same place. But the high elf warlock and the male rogue both seemed to see this as a chance to fizzle out the situation and nodded. The dragonborn and the other rogue looked at the two with alarm as they both sat back down and let this stranger join them. He took the bag out of his satchel and jingled it. They heard the sound of many coins clanking together, and it was enough to get their attention.

 

“I am willing to pay you for safe passage to the town,” the merchant informed the group. He looked everyone in the eyes as his gaze passed from one person to the next. “I need to get there by tomorrow evening in one piece, alive, and safe with all my possessions.”

 

The group looked among each other not sure what the issue was as they had all come from that way with no issues. As the seconds passed, the merchant looked more aggravated at the lack of reply and jingled the bag one more time. Sulvaha, the high elf, looked at the merchant and then to the bag and held a finger up as if to say one moment, and then pointed to the bag. “How much will we get,” the pale elf asked. For the first time, the two rogues looked at the guy lightly. Speaking their language finally. The merchant stuffed the bag in his pocket and patted it softly.

 

“One hundred gold pieces each when we make it to the town.”

 

“How about twenty now and eighty later,” An Talas asked in a soft, smooth tone. He had a twinkle in his eyes that was almost too playful as he nodded his head to the high elf.

 

“We will need our own supplies, after all,” Sulvaha added on, playing off the other man’s cue.

 

The man flared his nostrils and played with his beard for a moment. “Twenty now and fifty later,” he decided on.

 

“But that’s not the prom-“ Ahtil, the other rogue started, but stopped when her guildmate put up her hand. Once more that soft voice melted out of him.

 

“Fifty when we get there, and twenty now seems reasonable. And, perhaps, if you are satisfied with our services you could use us again when you travel as, clearly, the roads have been getting more treacherous by the day.”

 

The dragonborn looked between the four others and went to say something about the situation. He did not feel comfortable with the idea of him being paid for something he would willingly do for free. And he had a feeling that the liar who had tried to cheat him out of money was going to do the same to the poor merchant who was clueless. But as he did, Sulvaha put his hand on the dragonborn’s knee to stop him. At the end of the day, this was his idea, and they were not tricking him. But the dragonborn flared his nostrils and looked to the side. He was not happy with anyone at the table.

 

“Fine,” the merchant finally agreed with the elf and put eighty gold pieces on the table top and the high elf split it four ways to each of the members. “I am at the Gilded Gaunlet tonight. I will meet you in the morning for the trip here. At dawn. Sharp.”

 

And with that the man outreached his hand for a shake. The three elves were quick to do so, but it took a few glares and a sharp nudge to shake as well. He looked at the man and nodded to the man before he got up from his spot and left.

 

Each of the party members pocketed their coins and Ahtil got up to leave when the dragonborn coughed. She stopped and looked up to the paladin, alarmed. She slowly sank to her seat, thinking he had noticed she had also pocketed his coins from before. But his sharp lizard-like eyes looked from one person to the next much like the merchant had.  His arms were crossed in front of him as he surveyed the people he was now going on a quest with. He had no real desire to be with the people before him as he could tell, everyone was godless. They were all men and women without souls or a care for the good in the world, and it made him uncomfortable. But, he had made a promise to this man and he was now stuck in this pact. The only comfort he had in this was that, perhaps, he could bring these fools to a good part of life. And so, he started the introductions.

 

“My name is Mulman, and I am a dragonborn,” he said, as if it were not already obvious. From his golden scales and long snout to his sharp snake-like eyes, there was nothing remotely man about him. He was enormous compared to the rest of the party. “I came here to speak with the leaders of the local temple in search of some good to do and that is how I came to this tavern. I have been hoping for a way to give service to the world now that I have completed my training.” He finished with a resolve that few others had. He was proud of who he was. And he was passionate about his desire to be there for people. He was good, there was no doubt about that. He looked around earnestly as the rogues looked at each other, almost sure this was a joke.

 

There was an uncomfortable pause before Sulvaha introduced himself. Possibly it was because he wanted to break the silence and did not need to cause another fight. “I am Sulvaha. I am learned in the arts of arcana. It’s all new to me, the powers are growing and weak, but they grow stronger as I practice.” He looked over at the Paladin who was narrowing his eyes. “Studies are difficult, and I am on a small break to find myself as I,” he took a moment indicate his ears and pale elven complexion with a flourish of his fingers, “age slowly.” He smiled and looked over at the dragonborn, who bought the excuse. But there were two set of eyes boring into his skull that clearly felt like two other elves who were not buying it. So, he looked at them and motioned with one hand for them to introduce themselves. The other ran through the white hair that fell in his face.

 

An Talas and Ahtil looked at each other with arched eyebrows. They were not buying this, but at the end of the day, playing along would keep them alive. At least for now. So, An Talas took off his hood and scratched softly at his chin before smiling. “I am An Talas, this is my friend, Ahtil. We have known each other these last two decades as companions as common workers,” he replied in that same smooth tone. “We are not exactly a shop boy like the merchant or a bar maid like,” he waved at the curly-haired lass who had delivered their last round. “But we make due. We came up this way to see one of our other friends who had fallen ill from a potion they mistook for a different one.”

 

In actuality, they were here for their guild to poison a member of the elite who had made a treaty to run out the thieves’ guilds in the area. He had more or less put a bounty on their heads and the man needed to be removed from the crown’s influence. They guided him to a peaceful and rather end-all sleep. He looked at Ahtil and let her take over as she stumbled through a less convincing nod and, “we were here for a happy game when you caught me on a bad count.”

 

An Talas sighed and Sulvaha read the story in full. An Talas and Ahtil were close, but he was the more successful of the rogue and she was there to help him as well. They were a team and stronger more than they would have been apart. They had to be young, as they were nearly children in his eyes. But they were old enough to pick their own names.

 

“So what now,” An Talas asked, looking over the two he did not know. “Do we sing a song of friendship and forget the bad for this little trip south. Make some change and go our merry ways, or?”

 

“Well, let’s see how this goes. For all we know, this could work out for us as a way to get jobs,” Sulvaha pointed out. “And before you try to argue that it’s not right Mulman, remember. They need protection, and they are offering money. We’re not demanding it.”

 

The dragonborn closed his mouth and instead took another drink of his ale. He looked off to the distance at the far end of the wall. The candlelight mesmerized him. It was where he kept his eyes for the rest of the night as the other three spoke and exchanged stories of their time abroad and learning. In spite of himself, he listened and felt a smile on his lips begin to form. He had been traveling alone for over a year aside from the odd night or two around other paladins. There was such an energy about these three strangers trying to one-up each other on tales that made him feel comforted. The flames danced and swayed, casting a weird light and shadow on the far walls. Before long, Sulvaha began to prod at the man to talk as well, and though he downplayed everything with his eyes to the wall, the smile was full and real. He did not even ask how they managed to afford another two rounds, but it was nice to have a band of acquaintances. Maybe someday even friends.


	2. The Merchant and the Orcs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulman, Sulvaha, Ahtil, and An Talas accompany the merchant south.

The sun was rising still when Sulvaha felt his bed get kicked. After a night of talking with the other two elves, he was not sure why he had been surprised to see the shadowed figure of An Talas standing over him with his pack slung over his shoulder with his hood up. His eyes were not looking down but out the window. He was clearly surveying the scene. There was no way he had been late to waking up, but it seemed the man was paranoid at best. The elf rubbed his eyes and moved to the edge of the bed with his blankets still covering himself for modesty’s sake. An Talas finally looked back at him and snorted.

“Don’t flatter yourself, prince. I’m making sure you don’t ditch out on us, let’s meet the merchant downstairs.” With another laugh, he walked out, helping himself to the water on the table by the door and leaving it open. Sulvaha sighed heavily and got up. He walked over to shut the door, but not before making awkward eye contact with the bar maid from the night before, who had just watched An Talas leave and now he was standing at the door far from proper for company. He grumbled and shut the door to pack and get dressed. In less than a day he knew exactly how working with that guy would go now. Across the way, he could hear the booming voice of the dragonborn outside a door and knocking. He was trying to sound polite, but the natural rumble in his voice made it hard to sound gentle. Though he could not make out what was being said, it was clear he was trying to get Ahtil out of her room. Whether it was out of no trust or out of kindness, he was not sure.

When Sulvaha opened the door, he called across the way to his friend that they were probably downstairs, as he had just been woken up by a random elf in his room. There was a comical pause where his hand hovered close to the door, but not touching it. Mulman looked over at Sulvaha and it was clear this man was the type to assume his friends would always tell him the truth. He adjusted the straps on his bag that reminded Sulvaha of a school boy. It made a small smirk crawl on his lips as he shook his head and headed for the stairs. As he expected, the two rogues where talking to each other while leaning against the door. While they looked relaxed, An Talas had his hands not placed coyly on his hips, but nestled with a grip on the hilts of his daggers. Ahtil had a hand placed lightly on her rapier and her hand playfully at her hair, fingers seconds away from her arrows. Two people not ready to trust anyone. All the same, they smiled at Sulvaha and Mulmun. The second pair waved back and noticed out the door was the merchant. He had with him a mule carrying his packages and his bag was heavier than before. He looked over everyone and nodded. It seemed the merchant was as surprised everyone showed up as each person in the party was.

“I sent forward a raven,” the man informed them, “To my wife. She has been worried about me traveling so I want her to know I am traveling with someone.” They nodded and all muttered about that being fair, kind or sweet to some degree. He had a smug and proud smile at the fact that he had a wife to raven, it seemed. There was little else to think about to it aside from the fact that the man hand compulsively counted his items a few more times. As they headed toward the edge of town and the gates, everyone had their hands on their preferred weapons to make the man feel better. Mulman grasped his holy symbol as they walked.

After a few minutes of silence, Ahtil looked over at the man and asked, “So what exactly have you been worried about? I mean, we were just on this road. There was nothing here when we came up a week ago.” She was honest in wondering. While her attention was on him, An Talas and Sulvaha were looked to the sides of the road. Mulmun had a perfect view over the head of the party and mule.

“For you,” he replied lightly. “We merchant know better than to ever travel alone. Bandits and rogues like to steal from us when they can. Some criminals escape their camps.” There was a weird flash of annoyance in Ahtil’s eyes and An Talas winced. The merchant did not notice either, but continued. “But this road and the one to the south of Neverwinter is notably bad for some time. Orcs and goblins have been roaming the woods more than other places. They don’t care about people who don’t seem to have much- no offense.”

“None taken,” An Talas muttered, but the smoothness of his voice was gone, and it sounded stony.

“So, I figured a few people with some fire and spirit would make it safer or, at least more entertaining.” The older man offered a light laugh and smile at Ahtil, who was now petting the mane of the mule as they walked. She gave him a smile back, hers was full and made her round cheeks crease with dimples.

“Orcs you say,” Mulmun asked. He had dropped his hold on the holy symbol since leaving the town and had his hands down by his waist. “They come this far away from the mountains?”

“Oh yeah, they will settle anywhere they can if it means they can find stuff.” The merchant replied, looking up to the dragonborn. Ahtil took the momentary distraction to look over the items in the pocket near her, but caught sight of nothing of importance before she had to stop and go back to petting the animal. She looked up and caught the warning stare of An Talas, who clearly had watched her attempt to find something worth taking and she deflated onto the saddle, one arm draped over the top.

The sun was high before they saw another person on what should be a normally popular road. A commoner on horseback who nodded at them as he went by. They nodded back and Sulvaha watched him over his shoulders wondering why that was the only person they had seen so far. If this was a dangerous road, would he not be traveling with other people? Or was this guy just paranoid and needed to have someone holding his hand to travel between towns. He looked forward again and rolled his silvery eyes and looked over at the two elves who looked more bored than any thieves possibly had ever looked. Maybe this easy money thing was not their style after all. For him? It was a wonderful day to be walking. It was late summer with a nice breeze in the sky. The air was fresh with the smell of conifer and honeydew. Birds were singing and calling to each other and even when the sun was not covered by clouds, it was not too hot in their leathers.

They continued to walk forward as the sun peaked in the sky and began to fall into the tree line when the world seemed quiet. The only sound was the heavy footfalls of the dragonborn and the clinking of the hooves on the rocks. Mulmun squinted and noticed something in the distance. He grunted before adding, “Wait,” to the noise. “I see something down that way.” The elves and merchant looked up to the dragonborn, who was squinting and bobbing his head. “Mmmm, yeah it seems like a wagon broken down up ahead.” They all looked forward and approached cautiously. Ahtil, the smallest of the party, crept forward ahead of the team and scurried back. Her pale face said it all to most, but Mulmun needed clarification. “Do they need help?”

“Uh, no, Mulmun. They’re dead.”

“Are you sure,” the merchant asked. His face was pale.

“Oh yeah. They’re quite. Dead.”

The group walked forward cautiously. While Sulvaha and An Talas looked at the bodies on the ground to see what had gotten them, Mulmun and Ahtil went to the open side of the wagon. The merchant stood the back with a gaunt expression. Sulvaha rolled over one of the bodies to reveal a few slashes across the body. The other had a broken-off arrow in the shoulder. In the wagon, Ahtil noticed a lump under some old material. She reached forward when it jumped out suddenly. It’s gnarled, greenish face and pointed teeth gnashed at them and hissed. Sulvaha, who was by the front jumped forward with one hand forward and the other stretched outward in front of Ahtil.

“Woah, woah, hey, we didn’t mean to wake you, we just wanted to know what happened here,” he exclaimed.

The Goblin gave a shrill cackle and pointed at them. “King Maul is what happened here,” it replied. His slimy tongue dragged over the yellow teeth as he reached for his whistle. “And he can come for you.”

An Talas fired an arrow at the goblin, who had bent down to blow the whistle. The shriek came from the silver object, but the noise was cut short when Mulmun reached forward and slashed with his long, curved claws. The goblin coughed on his own blood as the dragonborn demanded, “Who is Maul?” It was too late as the goblin fell limp in his grasp. The group feared this force would be upon them soon, and they decide to huddle in the wagon for safety. But only thing that came was insects. The sun continued to sink lower into the sky and the mule was grazing nearby on grass.

The sky was growing pink and purple when Ahtil tossed her head back against the wooden floor of the wagon with a light thud. She groaned in frustration and grabbed a bit of grass and tossed it.

“This is stupid, we could have been there by now,” she pointed out in an annoyed tone.

No one said anything, but they all agreed. This was dumb, but the merchant had no intensions of leaving if he thought this King Maul knew someone was on the trail. They had pointed this out twice in the few hours they had sat on the side of the road. He retorted a number of times with how the goblins could have been coming from the south and catch them on the way. Twice was fine, but now it was clear the guy was just crazy. He was paranoid or wanted to make it seem like his life of selling fabrics or whatever was cooler than it actually was. Even pointing out that his wife would be waiting was not enough to get him to budge. And as the sun sunk lower in the sky, it was clear they would be camping for the night. They decided on a watch and Sulvaha sat on top of the wagon with his bow drawn. He did not need a fire to see, so they put it out for safety. But all he saw was an owl swoop by and a few bats.

He relayed this to Mulmun, who nodded and continued to watch. But it was quiet. There was the chorus of crickets chirping in the distance and the soft sounds of snoring below. He saw nothing, which he told An Talas, but that was not surprising as dragonborns were not known for their night vision. An Talas took over the watch and saw something quickly in the distance. The shadowy figures moving among the trees and the road. Only a few at first, but more came. Not a large force, but a dozen was overpowering alone. Two or three seemed to be the same size as Mulmun. He dropped down from the wagon and nudged Sulvaha awake and asked him to lend his eyes and see if he sees it was well. The high elf confirmed people were coming. From the south. And that the crazy damn merchant had been right. An Talas flared his nose and dropped down again and nudged the other three awake. That they were not alone.

The mass of goblins surrounded then in a semi-circle. The eerie glow of torches and the pale moonlight over the wagon set the mood for them. An Talas and Ahtil had their bows ready, Sulvaha prepared for his magic as did Mulmun. The merchant? He pulled out a letter opener. They all let their muscles coil below them so they could spring into action when from behind, heavier footsteps echoed in the night. A voice, one that was cracking and guttural, boomed in the dead of the night. In its wake, everything fell silent, as though giving a politely silent audience to the monster. An Talas and Ahtil poked their heads up to see a bugbear with a heavy breastplate and hide cape. In his hand was a spiked club and a sword on his belt. “Give us the merchant and his belongings and the rest of you can go free.” The five looked each other over. Or rather, the three elves surveyed the scene and the other two looked cluelessly. “I can smell you,” he added with a laugh. “You don’t all have to die.”

Ahtil and An Talas were looking at the merchant and wondering if he was actually worth it. Sulvaha pulled on his cloak and whispered low enough for the human to not hear, “he’s worth more to you alive than dead.” An Talas and Ahtil snorted and looked up to the sky.

“So, now what,” Ahtil asked. The lingering tone in her voice made it clear that she was there not for their benefit. She could not outrun them all.

“Well, we promised this young man we will get him to safety,” the dragonborn insisted. His voice was earnest, and he flexed his muscles. “perhaps they just need to see a show of strength. Make him see he could just let us pass and it would be easier that way.”

“Mulman, that thing is huge, it’ll throw you into the next kingdom,” Sulvaha replied. He received a haughty laugh in reply as the towering figure stood up with his arms up showing he was not a threat. “Mulmun, what are you-“

He was cut off as the dragonborn stepped out with a jovial look to his face. “Good sir, I see that you are a towering man of significant size. Perhaps we can lay down our arms and just settle this as honorable men with no real violence but a show of strength. Perhaps with a simple… arm wrestle?”

A chorus of, “What the fuck, “Mulmun, what the,” and “He’s going to get us killed,” came from behind the wagon as he outstretched his hand. The bugbear considered him for a moment before smirking and taking the hand. Mulmun flexed his arm only to give the creature leverage to send him through the wagon and pushing the merchant into An Talas and Ahtil. In the distance, the mule shrieked in terror and the sound of its hooves clattering on the road shot into the distance. Mulman was laying on his back in the embers of the fire. Sulvaha rolled his eyes as he spun around in tandem with the two other elves. Their volley of 2 arrows and a witch bolt hit the bugbear head on. He shook off the damage and laughed. An Talas and Ahtil looked each other over with a shaken expression. They both felt their muscles tense in their legs. They were ready to run. Sulvaha was looking at the back of their heads and Mulmun groaned from the ground.

“The merchant, or die,” he repeated. As a show of how little they had hurt him, the bugbear brushed off his shoulders and armor with loud claps. The growling crowd of goblins were huddling around closer and the dull light from the torches was growing brighter. “It’s your choice.”

An Talas kicked the part of the wagon in front of him and Ahtil flat to show where the merchant was cowering.

“We can still fight them, guys. It is our duty to keep him safe,” Mulmun groaned from the firepit. His virtue made it too difficult for him to actually say it was fine to dispel of the man. He thought his words were true, as the platinum god was watching over him. The elves, however, were not too sure. They had all agreed that this man was not worth it. Especially as An Talas lightly flicked the back of coins he had grabbed from the merchant when the man was flung into him moments before. He was now, literally, worth nothing to them. Ahtil lowered her bow and An Talas put his arrow back into the quiver at his side. Sulvaha put his hands at his side, the arching blue energy now gone. The bugbear stepped forward with his feet slamming into the ground. His long, muscular arm reached out and grabbed the merchant by the neck and lifted him off the ground. The elves began to cautiously walk away from the bugbear and the trapped merchant who began pleading with them to help him. That they promise to keep him safe.

From the firepit, Mulmun begged as well. He ached hearing the way the man was crying. The tears were in the merchant’s throat and words now as he spoke of his wife. Their future. Their promise. But even the good in Sulvaha’s heart knew that there was no saving this man, even if they fought until their dying breath. Mulman begged one more time, but his plea was silenced with a sickening half crunching, half squishing noise as the bugbear used his large, unnaturally strong hands to crush the man’s skull. Blood sprayed over the dragonborn, who blinked in the aftermath of this fact and was startled enough to leap to his feet.

There was a pause in the air. No one moved or spoke. The insects refused to chirp in the wake of this moment. But it was only a beat, one the whole party seemed to hear at once, for the elves and dragonborn were soon to be sprinting the remaining few miles left to the city of Neverwinter as the sun started to peak over the trees to the east. They were breathing heavy and sweating. Their noses burned with the smell of sweat and the coppery scent of blood from the remains of the merchant on Mulman’s face. Their retreat was made to the cheers of goblins in the distance as they plundered the saddle they had removed from the mule and what was left on the merchant.

When the sun peaked over the trees finally, they slowed to a walk. They refused to stop fully to even breathe. Their sides were splitting, and legs were screaming in pain. They were winded and exhausted. But they were still a while away from town. No one wanted to talk about what just happened. No one looked at another in the eyes. And the only sound aside from the cheery songs of birds was the soft prayer of Mulmun from behind for the merchant they left behind. They watched the ground pass below their feet until the sound of hooves began to click in the distance. Sulvaha looked up to see a man on horseback with metal armor and a sword at his side. They called to him to stop him from going forward. He paid them no mind, and laughed off their warning of the bandits. Sulvaha rolled his eyes and muttered, “Well fuck him,” to himself. It earned a half-hearted snort from the other two elves, but a condescending tongue click from Mulmun.

Finally, the towers of the gate came into view. Everyone sighed out of relief and they all picked up speed slightly. They were called to a halt 30 yards from the entrance and three guards came out. One had his hand on his sword and sauntered up and surveyed the group. The other two stood at the entrance to the gate and swords in front of them, tip hovering just above the dirt. He looked behind them, as if Mulmun was hiding something, then looked over at the men for a second.

“What business do you have in Neverwinter?” The guard asked. He did not move, but his eyes were boring into theirs.

“We, uh. We live here?” Ahtil offered as an answer. Her voice was more of a question that a statement and An Talas rubbed the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut. Sulvaha bit his lip, enjoying how oddly naïve a rogue could be. The man, however, was not satisfied with the answer.

“Ah, yeah yes, but it’s not every day people travel in a group, ready to fight… without a reason.”

“Yes, well, the road is dangerous these days,” Sulvaha offered.

“Indeed. Normally for merchants. Say, you wouldn’t have happened upon one in your travel?” The guard asked with a tone in his voice that was more telling than it had been before. Mulmun looked down to Sulvaha and held his holy symbol. “Would have been traveling with four people. Reportedly a dragonborn among them?” In a show of power over them, the guard took a scroll from his side pouch and reviewed it.

“Yes, that would be our party,” Mulmun finally replied. “We were in his company.”

“And where would he be, if you were to deliver him.”

An awkward silence fell over the conversation. In the background, they could hear people carrying on with their lives beyond the gate. Their eyes were on the ground and even the guard shifted uncomfortably in the realization of what happened. But, to prove a point, An Talas finally pointed to the splatter on Mulmun’s robes and crudely explained, “That’s not jam from a tart, sir.” Mulmun groaned at how inappropriate the comment was, but the elf stood by what he said. And he was the only one to look the man in the eyes now. The guard nodded and tapped the scroll against his hand thoughtfully.

“Very well, and his merchandise?” The guard looked around.

“They got the mule, sir,” An Talas replied with a pathetic eyebrow arch and a dark sorrow falling in his eyes. His lip pulled tight for a moment before removing his hood. “I was wondering if we could, perhaps, find our way to his widow’s place. Find a way to ensure she is taken care of because of these events?”

Mulmun perked up at this offer, earnestly nodding at the desire to help. The guard nodded and gently tossed his head in the direction of the gate. Ahtil stepped forward with her eyes on the scroll. She was intrigued by what was written on it. No ordinary merchant was important enough to be sending alerts to the tower guards. 

“Before you see them, our captain would like to talk to you about this,” The guard told them. He heard the pause in the steps and gave a somber laugh. “No, no need to worry. We just need to know what is attacking the merchants on the road. We have yet to have someone survive the attack, so. It’d be nice what to tell something to our hunters from now on.”

Ahtil took the moment to trying and reach for the scroll but misjudged the distance and instead of getting a handful of parchment from his pouch, he got a handful of material from his rump. Sulvaha felt the air in his lungs catch in his throat as, for the first time in his life, he had to catch his own laughter. An Talas winced with his tongue pressing against one of his teeth and tilting in annoyance. Mulmun just stared in horror at how forward she was at a man she did not even know. He only clutched that holy symbol harder. The guard turned slowly and looked the elf in the eye with an angry face.

“What. Are you doing.”

“I uh-“ Ahtil replied, ignoring the soft whispered thieves cant in her ears, “You’re just so fit. And I had to see if you were as… nice. As you… look.”

Sulvaha snorted, losing the fight with his laughter and both An Talas and Mulmun nudged him to stop. The guard’s cheeks flamed to a bright red and he coughed. “I’ll have you know I am a married man. Go off with the two guards for the night. Maybe you will learn a thing or two about where to put your hands, young man.” Finally, An Talas joined Sulvaha in laughing as Ahtil gave them the middle finger while being led off for the night. When the guard looked at them with a flash in his eyes, they stopped and wrestled their faces into a less amused expression. He snarled to follow him and the three left followed him into the tower.


	3. A loose definition of Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the party meet the captain and Ahtil spends a night in jail, A dwarf has a talk with a barmaid that he takes a little too seriously.

Mulmun liked this, even if his friends or companions were uncomfortable. This was orderly, and it had some level of normalcy in it. There was a nice table and a well-trimmed man in heavy armor stood on one side. A smaller man with half-moon spectacles on his broad nose was sat at the table with a parchment and quill at the ready. A third person, a lightly armored man with a quiver on his back and his longbow to his side was more relaxed and looked more bored than anything else. They were introduced as the governor’s security, his scholar, and a ranger who has been working as a scout for the orc parties to the south. On their side of the table sat Mulmun in the middle, An Talas to the left with his hood back up and Sulvaha to the right with his eyes on the guard who brought them in. The guard was in the middle, level with the table. He was relaxed and almost pleased that he could get these three powerhouses into one room with his own information. It seemed he was not as high on the chain as he acted.

“Now what exactly was your business with the merchant,” the security guard asked. The scholar prepared his quill.

“We were asked to accompany him on the road south from the town just up north,” Sulvaha explained.

“How long have you known him?”

“We met him the night before we last in the tavern,” Mulmun offered. He was ready to explain why they had all been together, but the guard held his hand up. The dragonborn politely closed his mouth and nodded.

“And what were you doing in the tavern. Three different elves and a dragonborn,” the security guard seemed not too sure of this party. To be fair, Mulmun would not have been either if he had been third party. Even first party, he was not too sure of their abilities. Especially after their only run-in.

“We were looking for a job,” Sulvaha replied, cutting off Mulmun. The dragonborn looked alarmed. That was not why they were there. They were most definitely there having a good time until the elves started to cheat them out of money. It was nothing more than a chance moment that they were all sat at the same table. It was a coincidence and nothing more. He looked to the other side to An Talas, who simply smirked. Was there something he had missed along the way? Surely, they did not know each other before this interaction. He blinked, his eyes closing both top to bottom and left to right as his extra lid slid over. The air in the room was dry and his eyes were stinging from the smoke.

“So, you met in a small tavern and hoped for the best?” The guard almost laughed at this idea. The ranger did, as well.

“Got to start somewhere, now don’t we all?” An Talas replied. His eyes left the guard and moved over to the ranger. “Everyone starts as a tour guide to an old elven ruin, don’t we?” His words and tone struck a chord with the ranger who’s eyes narrowed. Undeterred by this, An Talas looked up to Mulmun. “Besides, we have a dragonborn. That alone is an eye-catcher.”

Mulmun puffed up with pride as he was mentioned. His muscles flexed under his armor and he exhaled. His head danced a little in self-satisfied thoughts. He was the eye-catcher, after all, and even the sketchy one knew he was why they would be noticed. And why they were noticed, no doubt. The others were far too small to be of note to anyone looking to stay safe.

“And after you took the job, you wnhat? Left right away?”

“We left at first light. No need to go traipsing through dangerous territories at night,” An Talas continued with the same melting tone. He tilted his head slightly, but still refused to drop his hood. “We met back at the tavern, he secured his belongings to the mule and we left.”

“It was on the road about high noon that we found a goblin-“ Mulmun began, only to be cut off by the scholar.

“Just one?”  
“Oh yeah, just one. We dealt with him good, but he alerted his master or king or whomever that we were on the road. Oh, and we had stumbled across another caravan. They were long dead, but seemed to be headed south as well.”

The Scholar nodded and wrote as the dragonborn spoke. The guard continued to press for information. “And who did he say he worked for?”

“Oh, a King Maul I believe. And he came. He has quite the goblin force.”

“Is this Maul a… goblin? Is that what took down the merchant?” The ranger asked, wanting to have a chance to poke at these young travelers.

“He was a hideous this. Terribly strong and large. What did you say it was?”

“I didn’t say it was anything, Mulmun,” Sulvaha replied. “However, I believe the common term for them is a bugbear.”

“And you call them?”

“Assholes.” An Talas snorted into his hand, breaking his serene look with one far more amused. The guard and ranger were not, however, in the mood for those unhelpful comments.

“And what came of the merchant?” The guard asked.

“Well, he was grabbed by the skull and it was crushed before we could get more than a few hits on him,” Sulvaha replied. “The goblins were already on the donkey before we knew what was happening.”

Once more, Mulmun felt the need to speak the truth, but felt a light hit from the elf on the other side of him. He looked over at An Talas, who had not shifted in his expression. Snorting once more, he looked at the guard and nodded.

“Do forgive me for saying this, guys, but perhaps you should retire from heroics now and find yourselves a day job you’re actually good at. Until then, there is nothing else we need from you. You can go back to the tavern or whatever you do with your time,” the ranger replied in a cavalier way. He picked up his bow and looked at the guard who had brought the party in, laughed, and walked out. The scholar finished up his report and nodded at the security guard and stood up from the table. The last man stood as well and motioned to the door.

“Yes, well. Perhaps you have all learned to keep monster hunting to the professionals. Your little friend will be out of jail in the morning for her harassment of the guardsman. Keep a sharp eye about you if you venture back out, No doubt they will be looking for you again,” the security guard told him as he ushered them to the steps.

 

The tavern was a dark and musky place. It smelled of old wood, smoke, stale beer, and meats. The dark wood was offset by the lighter stonework on the outside quarried from the mountains to the east. The side of town that was repaired was not much more than a merchant district. A few good-sized shops were along the streets with homes on top or in the alley ways. A courtyard with some trees were behind it and along the back was the stairwell to the rooms above for rent. Inside were an assortment of people from gnomes to elves, bards to fighters. Men and women from all walks of life were mingling in the best service pub in town. The owner was a portly man with thinning hair and a full beard. His wife was short and frail, but was the brewer of the house. Their two kids worked in the tavern, as well. The daughter was the cook, and a good one at that, while the by tended to the rooms and ensured nothing was taken. The outcast of the family was not one of blood, but a woman who even hunched over behind the bar top towered over the lot. Her dark tan skin and tattoos along her body and up to her face were enough to chase off many suitors looking for a cheap thrill. And if that was not enough, her being the acting bouncer legitimately able to throw one out did. She was a woman of little words, but a constant eye out.

She was the one to notice how the old dwarf who had taken up one of the rooms seemed to survey everyone. He was not in there for his own fun and games. He was not after a wench at the bar, regardless of what was under their blouse. War-scarred and missing a leg. He stood out to her, even as he tried to blend in. He had a list, and every person he saw was added to one side or the other. Suspicious behavior for sure, and she had been watching it all night. She especially noticed the way his eyes had followed three people who stumbled their way into the tavern to take a room for the night. Two went upstairs and one went to her room after depositing a small, black rat onto her shoulder. He sat there now, chittering in her ear. They locked eyes for a moment and she realized he was calling her over without saying a word.

“Watchin that dragonborn, were you,” the woman asked in her deep voice. “What mischief are you looking for, eh?”

“Not so much mischief as brawn.”

The woman laughed at that and put down a pint of ale for him in a tankard. It clattered slightly. “Ah yes, our reigning heroes come to save us all there,” she replied. Her voice, for those who knew her well, was dripping in sarcasm. For the stranger, that was honesty. His eyes lit up at the phrase. She narrowed hers at him and arched her scarred eyebrow.

“Aye, and what do you know of them,” he pressed. The bar maid gave a barking laugh.

“One would very well pretend to drink you under the table and slit your throat where you stand, the other sold his damn soul to be better at magic, and the third is a holy preacher telling me shit I don’t care for is what. What are you looking for?”

“People crazy enough to take a town with me,” the dwarf replied. It’s off to the east in the trees.”

“Yeah, I know what it is. It’s a pile of stones and shit is what it is. What are you going to promise them?”

“What’s it matter to you, there. Bar keep?”

“Let’s just say I have a person interest in what this has to do with one of them. You sell it to me and I’ll set up the arrangement.” There was a silence hanging in the air. “And your tab for the night is cleared including your room fees, eh?”

The dwarf’s eyes twinkled as his pegged leg kicked out a stool for the woman to sit in. He showed her the crude map of the ruins and where he needed to get. His plan was simple enough and she followed it mostly. But the prize was almost too good to be true. But each time she pressed for his honesty, the dwarf seemed keen on not making her angry enough to use her muscles. Satisfied, she stood up.

“Tomorrow evenin, be down here and your heroes will be in that corner with another little elf.” She stood up and took his empty tankard smoothly from the table top. She spun, her dreadlocked mohawk swaying behind her as she moved. “You get ‘em killed, and I’ll kill yah myself. Just so you know.”


End file.
